When Leaper Meets Labrat
by Disgruntled Peony
Summary: I-man/Quantum Leap crossover; Sam leaps into Bobby Hobbes, and things go downhill from there...


Title: When Leaper Meets Lab-rat  
Authors: liz_Z and mecha_borg  
E-mail: liz_Z@secret-agent.com, mecholah@austin.rr.com  
Category: Crossover, Action/Adventure  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: For the Invisible Man, spoilers for 'The Three Phases of Claire' and a tiny, itsy bitsy reference to 'Germ Theory'; for Quantum Leap, spoilers for 'Mirror Image'.  
Disclaimer: We don't own 'The Invisible Man' or 'Quantum Leap'. I-man is owned by Stu Segall Productions, and Quantum Leap is owned by Bellisarius Productions (we could be wrong on the spelling of one or both of the names, but in any case, the point is, they aren't ours).  
Author's notes: This takes place after the official episodes of Quantum Leap ended; basically, we're bumping the timeline for Al and the Quantum Leap project crew up to the year 2003. This fic also means that Sam survives to the year 2001, 'cause otherwise he wouldn't have been able to jump into the situation we created here in the first place. The monologue, when it's there, is Sam's.  
Warning: This story contains content that might be considered disturbing to some readers, as parts of the plotline are based off of the events and repercussions of what happened on September 11th, 2001. Reader's discretion is advised.

  
_Over the years I've leaped into a lot of interesting situations. But this was definitely one of the more unusual ones- something I figured out within thirty seconds of leaping in._

  
**********

  
The first thing Sam noticed when he leaped in was the sound of gunfire, followed by the impact of a bullet into a nearby wall, dangerously close to his head. He crouched back down in the place that the person he'd leaped into had apparently been hiding a moment ago, glancing around and wondering what sort of crazy situation he'd leaped into this time. He appeared to be in some type of warehouse.

  
Just then a tall lanky man with the craziest hair he'd seen in a long time ran over and ducked down beside him. He gave Sam an irritated look and said, "Hobbes, you were supposed to cover me!"

  
Sam looked down, and sure enough he had a gun in his hand. He winced a little. "Well-"

  
Before he could finish the man rolled his eyes and said, "Never mind. I'll take care of this my way." That said, he turned away and, to Sam's complete surprise, a silvery liquid began to cover him and he vanished from sight.

  
Sam stared at the spot where the man had been just moments before, unable to believe his eyes. He said the only thing that came to mind. "Oh boy..."

  
**********

  
Al walked out of the Waiting room, shaking his head in disbelief. The guy Sam had leaped into was a real nut. For some reason he kept going on and on about telephones and butterfly cocoons. He also kept yelling at the top of his lungs that he was a federal agent. Al snorted; he found it hard to believe that the guy was a federal anything.

  
He lit up a cigar, took a big puff, and began walking toward the imaging chamber. It was time for him to fill Sam in.

  
**********

  
Sam did his best to stay hidden, trying to think of a reasonable explanation for why that man had turned invisible right before his eyes, and why it seemed like a commonplace phenomenon to the guy. Unfortunately, all he came up with was a blank. Just then Al appeared, a cigar in one hand and the handlink in the other as usual. Sam sighed in relief. "Al, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

  
Al gave him a weird look. "Sam, you look like you've just seen a ghost."

  
Sam shook his head bewilderedly, looking at the place where the man had disappeared. "Close enough."

  
Al shook his head. "Sam, what're you talking about?" Just then the man reappeared, with what looked like silver snowflakes falling off of him. Al's eyebrows shot up. "Never mind, I think I just figured it out."

  
The man motioned at Sam. "Come on Hobbes, it's all clear."

  
Al shook off his surprise and turned toward Sam, checking the handlink. "Umm, your name is Robert Hobbes, you're in San Diego, and you're an agent for the Department of..." Al smacked the handlink, a confused look on his face. "The Department of Weights and Measures." He was obviously thinking the same thing Sam was; why would someone from the Department of Weights and Measures be in the middle of a shootout?

  
The man with the big hair tapped Sam insistently on the shoulder. "Come on Hobbes, we've gotta hurry!"

  
Al continued to fill Sam in. "This is Darien Fawkes, your partner. He also works for the Department of... Weights and Measures," Al said, still giving the handlink a strange look.

  
Darien grabbed Sam by the sleeve. "Come on! We've got to get out of here!"

  
Sam glanced around nervously at the warehouse walls. "You won't be getting any argument from me."

  
Darien and Sam ran out of the building. Darien began rushing toward a rusty old brown van and jumped into the passenger's seat. Sam followed, clambering into the driver's side. He searched his pockets frantically, and managed to locate the key to the van. He started it up and drove away at top speed. Darien shook his head. "The Official's not going to be happy about this."

  
"The official what?" Sam asked, giving Darien a curious look.

  
"Well, he's an official pain in the butt, that's for sure," Darien muttered.

  
Sam frowned and glanced over at Al, who was now in the car with them. Al shrugged. "Don't look at me. It's really weird, but Weights and Measures has this whole thing wrapped up in a mountain of red tape. Ziggy's trying to cut through it, but so far she hasn't been able to make much progress."

  
Sam shook his head. "Well, one thing's for sure. This isn't what it seems."

  
Darien nodded. "You can say that again. This was supposed to be a simple job, in and out. The Official never said anything about a shootout."

  
Al frowned, fiddled with the handlink for a few more seconds, and then looked over at Sam. "Look, I'm gonna go talk with the federal nutcase back in the waiting room. I'll be back as soon as I have more info for you." And with that, he left.

  
Sam looked ahead, trying to familiarize himself with the roads. Suddenly, Darien sat up straighter and frowned. "Hey Hobbes, you missed our turn. We need to go back to the Agency, remember? I don't think the Official would like us making a detour to Mexico."

  
"Oops," Sam muttered, wincing a little. "Guess I'm a little distracted."

  
"You took your pills, right?" Darien said, his expression changing from a frown to what seemed to be an interesting mixture of worry and annoyance.

  
"Umm... no," Sam said, in an attempt to gauge Darien's reaction.

  
"Aw crap Hobbes, how many times have I told you not to skip the pills!" Darien exclaimed, giving Sam a scolding look. "Pull over. Maybe it'll be better if I drive. And please, take the pills. Now." Sam pulled the car over to the side of the road, stepping out so Darien could get in the driver's seat. He allowed himself a small smile as he climbed in the passenger side. At least now he wouldn't keep getting the roads wrong the rest of the trip.

  
**********

  
"WHAT were you two thinking?" The Official yelled loudly, slamming a fist down on his desk. "I worked hard to get us that job. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and you two had to screw it up!"

  
Darien gave the Official a pointed look. "Oh, like that thing with the CIA and the beta-C was the opportunity of a lifetime? You screwed us over then, and you screwed us over pretty good this time too."

  
The Official glared at Darien. At this point a woman who the Official had earlier referred to as 'Miss Monroe' and Darien had referred to as 'Alex' spoke up. "I knew you should have sent me on this mission," she said, giving the Official a triumphant smirk.

  
"Then why didn't you come?" Sam asked curiously.

  
Alex gave Sam a strange look. "Because you didn't want me to."

  
Before Sam could make an attempt to correct his mistake Darien placed a hand on his shoulder. "He forgot to take his meds today," he said, giving Alex a meaningful look. Alex didn't look very pleased with Darien's explanation. She began to launch into a long rant about how Hobbes should always remember to take his medication, but neither Sam nor Darien paid her very much attention.

  
About mid-way through Alex's tirade Al stepped into the room. "Hey Sam, get this. Darien Fawkes here used to be a thief before he started working for the Agency- that's what this place is. They were working for Fish and Game at the time; they jump around a whole lot. I mean, in the last year alone they were with F&G, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the Department of Health and Human Services, and W&M."

  
"Get to the point, Al," Sam muttered in a slightly irritated tone; he was starting to develop a headache.

  
Alex frowned. "Hobbes, you will address me as Agent Monroe." Then she continued with her rant. Al paused for a moment to glance appreciatively in her direction, but that was all. After all, he was a married man with four kids, and he was very in love with his wife. His general policy about beautiful women at this point was look, but don't think about touching.

  
Al quickly focused his mind back on the task at hand and continued to fill Sam in. "The point is, Fawkes here got sent to jail on a third-strike rap. For life, Sam. Aren't you at least a little curious to know why he isn't sitting in a jail cell right now?"

  
Sam nodded a little, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "He agreed to have a little surgery done," Al said, pointing to the back of his head by way of illustration. "Looks like this scientist guy, his brother, stuck some sort of bio-synthetic gland in his head. And guess what this gland does? Poof! It turns him invisible!" Al said as he took a drag from his cigar. After a moment he blew out the smoke, watching it waft into ever less visible coils toward the ceiling.

  
So that's what I saw, Sam thought, feeling very relieved that there was a semi-reasonable explanation for what he had seen back at that warehouse. He would undoubtedly ask Al a lot more questions about this later, but right now he needed to figure out why he was here.

  
Just as he was thinking this, the Official's phone rang. He picked it up and began conversing in a business-like tone with someone on the other end of the line. Darien turned toward the Official and began to regard him curiously, since trying to listen in on half of a telephone conversation was a bit more interesting than having to sit through one of Alex's rants.

  
After a few moments the Official hung up the phone, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Boys, I have another job for you."

  
Darien groaned. "Aw, come on, not another one!"

  
"Agent Monroe, this involves you as well," the Official said. Alex seemed rather happy about this. The Official turned to Eberts. "Eberts, go fetch the Keeper." Eberts nodded and walked obediently out of the room.

  
As soon as Al heard the term 'Keeper' he began to fiddle with his handlink. After a moment he turned to Sam and said, "The Keeper is a woman named Claire, last name unknown. She's in charge of making sure Fawkes here doesn't go insane."

  
Sam frowned and was about to ask what Al meant, but Al saved him the trouble. "Apparently if Fawkes doesn't get a shot every six days or for every thirty minutes he's invisible, he goes 'quicksilver mad', pretty much becomes a walking id." Sam raised an eyebrow at this, but before he could ask for Al to elaborate Eberts came back into the room, followed closely by an attractive blonde woman. "That would be the Keeper," Al said, letting his eyes linger on her for just a moment.

  
Sam's eyes lingered on her more than a moment, and he felt a smile beginning to spread across his face. He got the feeling somehow that this reaction wasn't entirely his own; he couldn't help but wonder if this Hobbes person had a crush on the lovely woman who had just walked through the doorway. "Hey there," he said, getting up and offering Claire his seat.

  
Claire smiled warmly at Sam. "Thank you Bobby," she said, taking the seat he had offered to her.

  
The Official cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to draw everyone's attention to him and then said, "Well, now that you're all here, here's the mission." Darien groaned and rolled his eyes at this, but the Official ignored him and continued talking. "Some very influential weapons dealers are holding a party tonight, looking for potential buyers for their wares. The four of you are going to infiltrate this party and find out any information you can.

  
"You two," the Official said, pointing at Darien and Hobbes, "are going undercover as the leaders of a small terrorist organization. And you two," he said, pointing at Alex and Claire, obviously trying to suppress a grin, "are going to be their dates." Alex looked more than a little upset about the fact that she was going to be nothing more than glorified eye-candy at this party, but she said nothing.

  
Just then Al frowned, looking down at his handlink worriedly. "Uh oh. Sam, we need to talk."

  
Sam looked over at the Official and held up a hand. "Could you hold that thought for just a minute?" Without waiting for the Official's answer, he turned and walked out into the hallway. "What?" he asked, looking at Al with a mixture of curiosity and dread on his face.

  
"Well," Al said, with an expression on his face that made Sam very nervous, "I don't think going on this mission is such a good idea."

  
"What happens?" Sam asked, prompting Al to continue. 

  
"Well..." Al paused for a moment and winced a little before continuing. "On the night of the mission the four of you disappear. About three days later your dead bodies get washed up onto the San Diego beach." 

Sam couldn't help the fear that tinged his words as he said, "So I'm dead?"

  
Al nodded. "Yep. Swimmin' with the fishes. Well," he amended, "more like doing the dead man's float, but..." Sam gave Al a stern glare; Al fell silent.

  
"So I'm here to keep the four of us from being killed, right?" Sam asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of what the answer would be.

  
"There's an eighty-nine percent chance," Al said, giving Sam a confirming nod.

  
"Okay then," Sam said, and turned around to head back into the Official's office. However, he stopped when he saw that Darien was standing outside the doorway. It was obvious from his expression that he'd heard at least the tail end of what would have appeared to him as a very one-sided conversation. Sam smiled nervously. "Um, hi there Darien-"

  
"Fawkes," Al corrected promptly.

  
"Fawkes," Sam repeated, silently berating himself for the mistake, "What're you doing here?"

  
"The fat man sent me to get you," Darien said, giving Hobbes a suspicious look. "Are you okay? 'Cause you're acting weirder than normal."

  
"I'm fine," Sam said quickly, maybe a little too quickly.

  
"You sure?" Darien asked, looking if anything even more suspicious than before.

  
"Yep," Sam said, nodding and trying to look as normal and mentally stable as possible.

  
Darien frowned a little, but he didn't push any farther. "Come on then, the 'Fish is starting to get antsy." Sam nodded and walked back into the Official's office, followed closely by Darien. Al walked into the office too, although he didn't bother to use the door; after all, being a holographic projection, all he needed to do was walk through the wall.

  
"I'm glad you decided to rejoin us, Agent Hobbes," the Official said in a reprimanding and slightly sarcastic tone.

  
"No problem sir," Sam said, unsure of what exactly he was expected to say in return.

  
The Official turned to the rest of the group. "As I was saying before Agent Hobbes decided to take an untimely walk, Claire and Alex will be Hobbes and Fawkes' dates. I want the four of you to find out as much about the terrorists and gunrunners who will be at this party as possible. Half of the major terrorists in the entire state of California are going to have representatives there; if we can get enough evidence to take down even half of the organizations there we will have wiped out a quarter of all the terrorism in the state."

  
"So in other words, this is big," Darien said, glancing over at Sam with an expression on his face that made it pretty obvious he'd rather just stay home.

  
"Yes," the Official said, nodding gravely, "This is very big." He nodded at Eberts, who began handing files to Darien, Sam, Alex, and Claire. "Study these carefully; they contain all the information on the roles you are to be playing tonight. Also, the party is a formal affair; I'd suggest dressing properly for the occasion." This last comment seemed to be directed primarily at Darien.

  
Sam decided it was time for him to speak up. "Sir?" The Official looked over at him expectantly. "I was just wondering, is this mission absolutely necessary? I mean, going into a room filled with terrorists, that's gotta be pretty high-risk, right?"

  
The Official glowered at Sam, obviously not at all pleased with the question. "Risk is all part of the job, Agent Hobbes. I would think that you, of all people, would understand that by now."

  
Sam felt nervous now, not to mention a little cornered. "Well, sir, I was just wondering because, well..." His mind whirled, trying to think of a reasonable excuse. He looked around the room, his gaze drifting from Darien to Alex to Claire. "I'm just not sure we're all ready for this," he finished, his gaze lingering on Claire longer than it had on anyone else.

  
Claire noticed this and gave Sam a slightly questioning look. "I can take care of myself Bobby, you know that."

  
The Official cleared his throat, once again trying to draw everyone's attention back to him. "I'm sure you all can handle this mission," he said, looking pointedly at Sam. "Now, get out of my office and start getting ready." Darien, Claire, and Alex got up out of their chairs and walked out of the room. Sam followed, but his expression was grave. Obviously, they hadn't been able to handle whatever happened that night; otherwise, they wouldn't have been found literally dead in the water.

  
**********

  
Sam finished pulling on his tuxedo jacket. Even though it was rented it fit reasonably well, although it seemed to be just the slightest bit short around the arms. "I don't get it, Al. What's so important about this mission that this Official guy won't let us back out of it?" Sam asked, straightening his bowtie in front of a mirror. Looking at his reflection, he saw a short, balding man with piercing brown eyes.

  
Al's eyes took on a haunted look. "Well... on September 11th, 2001, some terrorists hijacked some planes and flew 'em right into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon."

  
"What?" Sam exclaimed, looking over at Al in surprise. "When does that happen?"

  
"Almost two weeks ago, at least for you," Al said promptly. "Today's the 24th."

  
"Why wasn't I sent to stop that?" Sam asked angrily, slamming his fist down on a table standing near the mirror.

  
"Well, maybe it was too big a job for just one person, Sam."

  
Sam turned toward the mirror, setting his jaw. "How many? How many people died?" he asked, knowing that he didn't want to hear the answer but feeling that he had to ask the question anyway.

  
"Too many. Way, way too many," Al said quietly. It was obvious he was avoiding giving a direct answer, but Sam didn't push him for details. After a moment, Al continued to tell Sam what had been going on. "On the twentieth, the president addressed the nation. Basically, America's at war against terrorists in general, and a whole bunch of feds have been called in on it."

  
"And the Bureau of Weights and Measures got called in on this because..."

  
"Weights and Measures didn't get called in on this, the Agency did. Special request from the president," Al said, giving Sam a meaningful look.

  
Sam sighed. Obviously, this was bigger than he'd thought it was. "Okay fine, so I'm supposed to go on the mission."

  
"Yeah," Al said, nodding, "But you're supposed to do it without getting yourself or any of the others killed."

  
Sam looked into the mirror again, his grim expression matching that of the reflection in the mirror, even if the faces were different. "So, what do I do?"

  
"You go through with the mission, and keep an eye out for anything suspicious," Al said. "You keep an eye on Monroe and Claire, I'll follow the invisible wonder-boy, keep an eye on him."

  
"But if he's invisible, how can you follow him?" Sam asked, looking over at Al in confusion.

  
"Well, according to the files Ziggy pulled up, that quicksilver stuff that turns Fawkes invisible is very, very cold. Gushie's working on some way to interpret thermal readings into the holographic display systems or something. Kind of like thermal vision goggles."

  
Sam nodded to show that he understood and turned back to the mirror. He straightened his bowtie, took a deep breath, and said, "All right, I'm ready. How do I look?" He turned to Al, striking a pose.

  
"Like a penguin," Al muttered, obviously attempting to suppress a laugh. He wasn't having much success.

  
"Coming from you, that's a compliment," Sam said, shaking his head and starting to head for the door of Hobbes' apartment.

  
"What?" Al asked, looking down at the bright floral-patterned shirt and striped pants he was wearing and then looking back up at Sam. Sam just laughed, shook his head one more time, and walked out the door.

  
**********

  
Sam drove Hobbes' van into the Agency parking lot, looking around for Darien, Claire, and Alex. The four of them had agreed that none of their vehicles were appropriate for the job at hand, so the Official had rented a limousine. After a moment Sam spotted the others all gathered around the limo in a corner of the parking lot. He parked the van in its place and then began walking over to the others, observing their attire as he walked toward them.

  
Darien was wearing a black suit. It looked a bit rumpled, but for the most part presentable. One corner of his shirt was un-tucked, and it was obvious that Alex and Claire had been commenting on it because after a moment he tucked it back into his pants where it belonged, giving the two women a sullen look. His hair, while it wasn't standing on end as Sam had seen it doing previously, still looked wild and unruly. All in all, Darien looked moderately presentable but extremely uncomfortable.

  
Alex was hands-down the most noticeable of the three. She was wearing a tight, bright red evening gown with a very low, deep-cut neckline. The dress was obviously tailored specifically for her, as it accentuated every part of her body to the highest possible level. Her hair was done up in a very complicated arrangement, and her makeup was impeccable. She was dressed to kill; Sam wouldn't have been very much surprised if she had a knife strapped to one of her legs.

  
Claire on the other hand was a little subtler in her attire. She too was wearing an evening gown, but it was a dark forest green and had an appropriately modest neckline. She was wearing a gold chain around her neck; a small gold pendant hung from it. Her hair was down, hanging loosely around her shoulders and delicately framing her face. Sam quickly decided he approved of her attire more than he did Alex's.

  
Sam finished crossing the parking lot, giving both Alex and Claire friendly smiles. He held out his arm to Claire. "Shall we?"

  
Claire smiled warmly at him. "Lets." She wrapped her arm around his, and the two of them walked over to the limo. Alex and Darien followed, although Alex had to coax Darien into giving her his arm. The four of them climbed into the limousine, and the driver began to head for his destination.

  
About midway through the trip Darien hit the button to open the sunroof. Before anyone had the chance to realize what he was doing he stood up on his seat, stuck his head- as well as a great deal of his torso- out of the now open sunroof, threw his hands up in the air, and let out a loud yell that sounded very much like "Whee-hoo!"

  
Alex, Sam, and Claire wrestled him back inside as soon as possible, much to his chagrin.

  
**********

  
The limousine pulled up in front of a large building that could almost be considered a mansion. This was where the Official had said the party was being held. Sam stepped out onto the pavement, followed closely by Claire, Alex, and finally Darien, who was still looking a little sullen due to the fact that his friends had forced him back into the limo.

  
Sam looked over at the others. "You ready?"

  
Darien nodded. "Bring it on," he said, looking at the building more as if he considered it a possible prospect for a robbery than as if it were the location of a dangerous undercover mission.

  
"Lets do it," Alex said, giving Hobbes a confirming nod.

  
Sam looked over at Claire. "How about you? Are you ready?"

  
Claire looked over at the building and then back at Sam. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

  
Sam heaved a deep sigh. "Okay then, let's go." Sam once again offered his arm to Claire, and she readily accepted. Darien had the presence of mind to offer his own arm to Alex this time around. She accepted, but gave him a slightly venomous look. She wasn't very pleased with the fact that she had been forced to be his date, but she hadn't much cared for the thought of being Sam's date either, and Sam had asked Claire first anyway.

  
As Sam walked toward the large building where the party was being held Al stepped into the imaging chamber, dressed a little more formally than usual, although he still stood out from all the flesh-and-blood people coming and going from the party. He began to follow Sam, pausing only to light up a fresh cigar. As they walked through the doors to the building, he began to whistle what sounded suspiciously like a funeral dirge. Sam shot him a quick glare and he stopped, but the tune still hung ominously in the air.

  


As Sam, Claire, Darien, and Alex walked through the door, a tall dark man with slicked-back hair greeted them. "Good evening. I hope you find tonight most profitable."

  
Sam forced a smile to appear on his face. "I'm sure we will." Of course, it wouldn't be profitable in the way the man meant if Sam could actually get this mission to be pulled off correctly.

  
"Right this way," the man said, leading Sam and the others down a long corridor and into a large room filled with people. They were all dressed formally, and some people had very obvious bodyguards lurking beside them, their eyes threatening violence to anyone who came near the respective people they were guarding.

  
Al appeared beside Sam. "Okay, now remember, these people are terrorists, and not all of 'em are small fish in the pond. Be very careful. Ziggy still can't dig up any exact info on how you were killed, she just knows that after you were killed you floated onto the beach."

  
"You already told me that, Al," Sam muttered, making sure no one else could hear him as he did so. "So, what do I do?"

  
Al frowned, puzzling over this new thought for a moment. "Just... mingle." Sam gave Al a sarcastic oh-thank-you-that-was-so-helpful look. But it was the only thing he could think to do, so he and Claire walked off in one direction while Darien, Alex, and Al walked off in another, each person intent on finding out in his or her own way exactly what was going on.

  
**********

  
After a while of following Darien around Al was starting to think that maybe this was just a waste of time and that he should check in on Sam. But then, right after Darien and Alex finished up a conversation with a short, rather obese man about biological weapons- something Darien obviously knew next to nothing about- Darien leaned over to Alex and said, "Hey baby, I'm going to disappear for a while. I'll be back later, okay?" Al immediately decided to wait on reporting back just yet; this looked like it was about to finally get interesting.

  
Alex tensed a little when Darien called her 'baby', but when he finished speaking she gave him a sickly-sweet smile. "All right honey, I'll just talk some more with my new friends." She put a nasty emphasis on the word 'honey', making it sound like a very thinly veiled threat. Al winced; this Alex woman might be attractive, but she sure had a lot of attitude.

  
Darien winced a little too. "Okay then," he said, heading off toward the men's room. Al followed, hoping that Darien didn't really need to use the bathroom; that would not be something he was interested in being anywhere near watching. When Darien got into the men's room he immediately checked under all the stalls to make sure no one was in the room. Then a silvery liquid- quicksilver, Al reminded himself- flowed over Darien's body and he disappeared from sight. Al raised an eyebrow as he saw this; he'd read the files on just what Darien was supposed to do and he'd seen Darien reappear, but it was still surprising to see him disappear from sight.

  
"Gushie, I need you to give me that thermal view," Al said, fiddling with the handlink and keeping his eyes centered on the place where Darien had been when he disappeared. Moments later, the holographic projection around him changed colors drastically and Al could see Darien once again, as a bright green figure that stood out against the more drab colors of the rest of the room.

  
Darien didn't seem to be in the mood to waste any time; he was already headed straight for the door to the bathroom. Al followed him back out into the room where most of the guests were gathered, and promptly winced at all the bright neon-orange human-shaped bodies that were walking around. "This'll take some getting used to," he muttered, shaking his head and following the bright green shape of Darien Fawkes as he slipped through the crowd, sometimes narrowly avoiding collisions with people, and then made his way out of the room.

  
Darien made his way down the hall, carefully opening doors and looking inside. Finally he seemed to find what he was looking for; a room with a large desk inside, covered in papers. He began sifting through them as Al watched. However, when he was about halfway through the search, several orange blurs threw open the door and rushed into the room. To Al's surprise, one of them aimed a gun directly at the place where Darien was standing. Darien's form turned from green to orange as he reappeared with his hands in the air.

  
Al frowned. "Hey Gushie, put me back to normal view." Gushie did so, and Al saw that the man aiming the gun at Darien's chest was wearing what looked like a pair of sunglasses. That was all Al needed to see. "Center me on Sam, now!" Al yelled. He was starting to get an idea of why Darien and the others had been killed.

  
**********

Sam was standing in a corner of the room, sipping from a glass of champagne and keeping a careful eye on Claire, who was talking with another man nearby. He was taking a short breather. The Official had given him enough info on the file of the person he was supposed to be undercover as for him to do a reasonably good job pretending to be the guy, but every now and then he had to pull back and remember that he was supposed to be playing Hobbes as well. He didn't want to make any mistakes, especially since they could prove to be fatal.  
Suddenly Al appeared beside him, a frantic look on his face. "Sam, we've got trouble! I know why you get killed."

  
"Why?" Sam asked, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible since he was in a roomful of people and it wouldn't look good if he was seen talking to thin air.

  
"They know about the gland!"

  
"Who knows?"

  
"Whoever's running this party thing! They found Fawkes with these thermal sunglasses or something. He was invisible, Sam. They couldn't have found him unless they knew!" Al paused for a moment, reading from the handlink, and then swore. "And it gets worse. When your dead bodies were found floating in the water, the gland was gone."

  
"What? Why didn't you tell me before?"

  
"Because it looked like he'd taken a gunshot wound to the back of the head, and you'd all taken gunshot wounds to the back of the head. Ziggy figured the gland just got blown to bits or something, but now she thinks maybe the gunshot wound came later."

  
Sam shook his head. "Where's Fawkes now?" he asked, a determined expression on his face.

  
"Last I checked he was in a room down the hall with three men with guns. Fourth door on the left."

  
"Well, go check again. I'm gonna get the others and meet you in the hall," Sam said, starting to walk over to where Claire was talking. Claire was laughing, probably at a joke of some kind, when Sam walked up to her and, without any kind of explanation, grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the people she'd been socializing with.

  
"What are you doing?" Claire asked as Sam continued to drag her away, "I was finding out some very interesting information!"

  
"Fawkes is in trouble, now come on."

  
"What makes you think he's in trouble?" Claire asked, giving Sam a worried look.

  
Sam looked into Claire's eyes. "I don't have time to explain, I just know. Come on, we need to get Monroe and find Fawkes quick." He hurriedly crossed the room until he was near Alex and then motioned to her. "Come on." Alex gave him a questioning look, but followed as Hobbes led Claire out into the hallway. "I think Fawkes is in trouble," he said again, since Alex was still looking at him strangely.

  
Just then Al appeared beside him. "He's still where I said he was, but he won't be for long. Three goons are about to march him off somewhere." Sure enough, as soon as Al finished talking Darien emerged from a nearby room, flanked by three big men with guns that they didn't even bother concealing.

  
Sam pulled out the gun that Al had made him conceal in his tuxedo earlier, just in case, and turned to Alex and Claire. Alex was holding a gun of her own. Sam frowned. "Where'd you have that hidden?"

  
Alex gave Sam an almost playful look. "You don't want to know."

  
Sam thought for a second and then nodded. "You're probably right." Then he turned to the three men who were marching Darien down the hall at a fast clip. "Hold it!" he bellowed, bringing his gun to bear. He really didn't want to fire it at this point; he was hoping these men wouldn't call his bluff.

  
One of the men turned and sneered at Sam. "What do you want?"

  
"You've got one of my men there, and I want him back," Sam said, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

  
The man's expression changed to a smug, self-satisfied look on the man's face that made Sam sick. "So you're with him, eh?" he said, gesturing at Darien. "Well then, I guess you'd better come with me too."

  
"Sam, look out!" Al yelled, right before Sam felt something hit him in the shoulder. He looked down and saw with dismay that he now had a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his tuxedo. He tried to turn around and see who had shot the dart, but a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him and the floor rushed up to meet him. He saw Alex and Claire impact with the floor as well, obviously having suffered the same fate as he had. He tried to look back over at Al, to ask him to keep an eye on Darien, but before Sam had the chance he passed out.

  
*********

  
When Sam began to awaken, the first thought that entered his head was, I'm not dead! However, when he tried to move he began to wonder whether his first assessment of the situation was entirely true. His head was throbbing with what felt like the beginnings of a very nasty hangover, and he felt bruised and bumped in several places where he'd been fine before. He opened his eyes slowly, unsure he wanted to find out what lay beyond the blackness of his eyelids. After a moment, Al's worried face came into focus.

  
"Sam, thank God you're alright," Al said, looking more than a little relieved as Sam sat up with a loud groan.

  
"Well, I wouldn't say I'm alright, but I'm alive at any rate," Sam muttered, glancing around him in an attempt to figure out what he should expect. Unfortunately, he couldn't see much. All he knew was he was lying on the floor of a very dark room. It didn't seem very big, either- when he reached out, he could touch a hand to either wall.

  
"Yeah, well I wouldn't count on you staying alive for long," Al said, looking around nervously. "These people mean business. I've been talking with Hobbes back in the Waiting Room, and he thinks he knows who's behind this."

  
Sam leaned forward a little, very interested in what Al was about to say. "Who?"

  
"Chrysalis," Al said, a bitter tone in his voice.

  
Sam frowned. "Like the butterfly cocoon?"

  
Al shook his head. "Not exactly." He sighed. "I thought that Hobbes guy was a kook, but it looks like he was right, about this anyway. Ziggy's been through more of the Agency's files, and from what we can gather Chrysalis is big. And they know about the gland, which explains the thermal glasses."

  
Sam looked around. "Is there any way out of here?"

  
Al shook his head. "Not unless you can walk through walls."

  
Sam swore loudly, causing Al to jump. "There has to be a way out of here," he said, massaging his temples in a futile attempt to rid himself of the headache caused by the tranquilizer. It made it hard to think, and this was a time when he needed to be able to think as clearly as possible. As soon as the headache receded to a reasonable level, he began to explore the small, dark room he was in for some sort of escape route.

  
**********

  
Stark watched Hobbes, Alex, and Claire from the safety of a large, white room. He had had hidden cameras placed in each of the small rooms that they had been placed in, and he was enjoying watching the three of them each try different ways to search for an escape route. There were none, of course; he had seen to that long ago. He heard a door open nearby, and turned around to find Arnaud standing there, wearing a fresh face and a lab coat.

  
"So, are we ready to proceed?" Stark asked, awaiting Arnaud's reply expectantly.

  
"We are indeed," Arnaud said, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Stark stood up and followed him out the door, into another room that had been set up as a laboratory. In one corner of the room, Darien Fawkes lay strapped to a hospital gurney. He didn't look very pleased at the situation he was in.

  
Darien frowned as Arnaud and Stark walked into the room. "I should've known you two would team up sometime."

  
Arnaud gave Darien a nasty smile. "Fawkes, we don't have time for pleasantries. You're here for one reason, and one reason only- so I can figure out what went wrong with my gland and fix the problem. After that, well... I'm afraid you won't be around for much longer." 

  


Darien began struggling in his restraints, yelling and cursing. However, Arnaud injected a needle into his arm and after a moment he passed out. Arnaud snapped on some surgical gloves, looking over at Stark. "Well, let's begin the tests now, shall we?" Stark nodded in approval, and Arnaud began to set up his equipment.

**********

Sam sighed. He'd explored every inch of his cell and he had yet to find a way out. It was very disappointing, and he becoming was extremely worried about the others. He had no idea whether they were still alive or not. "Al," he said quietly, "Could you check on the others?"

  
Al sighed. "Sam, you know I can't do anything... but yeah. I can check on 'em." With that he pressed a few buttons on the handlink and disappeared. Sam leaned his head back against the wall of his cell- there was no doubt about it, this was some sort of prison- and closed his eyes, hoping desperately that God, fate, time, himself, or whatever else was leaping him around hadn't sent him into a no-win situation this time.

  
**********

  
The two women were doing fine as far as Al could tell, although they seemed more than a little frustrated. But when Al popped in to check on Darien he quickly realized that Darien was far from fine. He was lying on a gurney, obviously strapped down tightly even though he was unconscious, and a man with a calculating gleam in his eye was strapping electrodes to his head. Another man in a suit was standing nearby, overseeing the process. He didn't look like he really understood what was going on, but he was watching nonetheless.

  
"What're you up to, you creeps?" Al muttered, wishing for what was far from the first time that he could do something besides observe what was going on here. There was nothing he would have liked better than to punch the person who was messing with Darien in the nose.

  
After a while, the man who had been setting Darien up for some type of experiment turned to the man in the suit. "Now, before I proceed, I would like to have the Keeper present," he said in a thickly accented voice.

  
The man in the suit frowned. "Why?"

  
The other man sighed and said, "Because she knows a great deal about the gland, and she could prove to be quite helpful."

  
The man in the suit shook his head. "She won't cooperate."

  
The other man smiled nastily. "Oh, she'll cooperate. I'll see to that." He turned back to Darien and said as an afterthought, "Oh, and I'll need Agent Hobbes up here as well. Make sure he's restrained, though. We can't have him causing any trouble." The man in the suit shook his head, obviously not very happy with the situation. But he turned and walked out the door, presumably to do exactly what the other man had said.

  
Al shook his head. This was bad, and steadily getting worse. He decided he should probably tell Sam to expect company, but before he left he turned toward the man who was currently occupied with an unconscious Darien. "You'd better watch your back, pal," Al hissed. Then he pulled up the hand that was holding the handlink and began punching in buttons. "Gushie, center me on Sam." Moments later, he was standing in Sam's cell.

  
Sam looked up, a questioning look in his eyes. "Are they alright?"

  
Al gave Sam a serious look. "Yeah, but not for long. There's this guy hooking Fawkes up for some kind of tests, and he's having someone bring Claire up with him because she's Fawkes' doctor- well, she's really his Keeper, but you get the picture. He wants you up there, too. Probably for leverage."

  
"So there's someone coming to get me, right?" Sam asked, his expression hardening into one of grim determination. It made Al a little nervous; Sam only got that look on his face when he was about to do something dangerous.

  
"Yeah, there's someone coming for you," Al confirmed.

  
"Tell me when he's about to come in, okay?" Sam asked as he positioned himself beside the door that was the only way in and out of the cell he was in. Al immediately realized what Sam had in mind. He nodded and walked over to the door, sticking his head through it and looking out at the long hallway that stretched in either direction on the other side.

  
After a few minutes Al spotted two large men walking toward Sam's cell, each of them brandishing a very large gun. In addition, one of the men had a wicked-looking knife strapped to his side. Al pulled his head back through the door and turned to Sam, his expression grave. "There are two guys coming down the hall. Two, Sam."

  
Sam's eyes still had a hard, almost icy look in them. "Well, that just makes it more of a challenge."

  
Al frowned. "Sam..."

  
Sam looked over at Al and held up a hand for silence. "Don't start with me. The worst that can happen is that I die, and it looks like that'll probably happen anyway."

  
Al was about to reply harshly to what Sam had said, but before he had the chance all of his attention became arrested by the fact that the cell door was slowly swinging open. Sam immediately jumped at the first man who came through the door, the one with the knife, and slammed him into the wall. However, even as he did this, the second man was drawing his gun and bringing it up so it was aiming right for Sam's chest.

  
"Sam!" Al yelled in warning. Sam froze immediately, one hand half-wrapped around the gun that the man he'd attacked had been holdin

  


"Hands in the air, now!" the man with the gun said, an expression on his face that made it very obvious he'd jump at any reason to pull the trigger.

  
Sam had a look on his face that told Al he was weighing the chances he had of grabbing up the gun he almost had a hold on, whirling around, and shooting the man who had a gun trained on him without getting shot first. Al looked over at the man, then back at Sam, and shook his head. "Better do as he says, Sam."

  
Sam thought for a moment longer, and then reluctantly reached his hands into the air. However, before he did this, he managed to very subtly grab hold of the knife, pulling it out of its sheathe and into his lap. Almost immediately after this, the man Sam had attacked seemed to recover his senses and pulled himself to his feet, giving Sam a sharp kick to the ribs. Sam doubled up and fell to the ground, gripping his chest and moaning as if in pain. But Al could see that he was really concealing the knife, so that it was hidden from view but still in easy reach.

  
The man who had kicked Sam in the ribs looked down at him in disgust. "Get up."

  
Sam glared up at the man. "Make up your mind, will you?" He pulled himself to his feet, slowly, painfully, placing his hands in the air again as he did so. As soon as he was standing, the man who had kicked him grabbed him roughly, pulling his hands behind his back and slipping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Sam hissed in pain; the man was certainly being rougher than necessary, but after the way Sam had humiliated him that was to be expected.

  
The two men practically dragged Sam out of his cell, pulling and pushing him so hard it was all he could do to stay on his feet. Al followed, watching and glaring daggers at the two men every time one of them manhandled Sam. But he wasn't quite so worried anymore. Sam had managed to keep that knife safely concealed and the two men hadn't realized it was missing yet. If only Sam could just find a way to get out of his handcuffs, he might have a chance of defending himself now- and possibly even fighting back.

  
**********

  
Claire was angry. She was sick and tired of being locked up in this cell that she had woken up in. She also had a pretty powerful hangover, which wasn't contributing to her mood. She could tell she looked very disheveled, even in the dark; her evening gown was ripped in at least two places, and her hair was bound to have started frizzing up in what she thought of as her 'mad scientist look'.

  
Suddenly she heard a sound coming from the general direction of the door. She tensed, squinting a little as the door swung open to reveal two large figures standing in the doorway. One of them stepped into the cell, casually hefting a gun in her general direction. Claire slowly got to her feet, making sure to keep her hands where the two men could see them. She didn't want to get shot because these two men thought she was being uncooperative; still, a part of her wanted nothing better than to knee these men where the sun didn't shine.

  
The two men pulled her out of her cell and led her down a long hallway, finally stopping in front of an ominous-looking door that practically screamed 'operating room'. And of course, this door that she least wanted to go through was the one she was being led to in the first place.

  
Immediately fear for Darien leapt into Claire's throat, but she forced herself not to let this feeling show itself on her face. It was one of the many things she'd been taught over the years; never show fear in front of your captors if you could help it. The two men opened the door and prodded her toward it. She stepped through reluctantly.

  
The first thing she saw was Stark, standing next to an unconscious Darien who was strapped to a hospital gurney and had electrodes and other medical equipment hooked up to him. The second thing she saw was Arnaud watching as Hobbes was pushed face first down onto another gurney, his hands cuffed behind him so that he was unable to defend himself.

  
By now Claire was having a very difficult time concealing her emotions. Two of her best friends were about to have God only knew what done to them, and for some reason she had been brought to watch. And Arnaud and Stark were obviously working together... How much worse could things get?

  
Arnaud looked up and smiled as he saw Claire enter the room. "Ahh, the illustrious Keeper has arrived." He walked over to her, giving her a mock-flirtatious look. "And looking so lovely tonight, too." He reached out and grabbed her hand in a grip that was seemingly gentle, but Claire could tell that if she tried to break its hold around her wrist it would instantly turn to iron. "Now my dear, I need your assistance with something. I'm about to run some tests on Fawkes, and I want to know whether his reactions to them are similar to the tests you yourself have run on him or not."

  
"I'm not going to help you, Arnaud," Claire said in a calm yet icy tone.

  
"Ahh, but that is where you're wrong. You see, if you don't help me, Hobbes will die. It would be a shame for someone like him to pass away before his time, don't you think?"

  
Anger, as well as another feeling that Claire was afraid to categorize, began to well up inside her. "If you harm one hair on Bobby's head I will personally rip that gland out of your head in tiny chunks and force-feed them to your dead body."

  
Arnaud laughed. "Come now, that's a little harsh, don't you think? Besides, I don't think Hobbes has very much hair for me to harm."

  
Claire was about to make some type of retort, but before she had the chance Hobbes spoke. "Don't let this creep mess with Fawkes," he said, giving Claire a solemn look.

  
Arnaud gave Hobbes a mildly amused look. "I doubt very highly that the Keeper can stop me from 'messing' with Fawkes." Then he turned back to Claire, letting his semblance of amusement fall to reveal the ruthlessness behind it. "Now, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear. If you don't cooperate with me, I have absolutely no qualms about killing Hobbes. I'll have no qualms about killing Miss Monroe either. And, if it comes down to it, I'll have absolutely no qualms about killing you. Your assistance will be useful, but not absolutely necessary." He cocked his head slightly to the left, a cruel smile appearing on his face. "So, what will it be?"

  
Claire swallowed hard. She knew what she was supposed to say, what it was her duty to say, but she also knew that if she said it she would be condemning her friends to certain death. And she couldn't bear to do that, she just couldn't... And then she saw the loophole. It wasn't a very big one, and it was certainly a gamble, but if it worked it would buy her a little time.

  
Feeling her courage coming back, she looked Arnaud straight in the eye. "I can't do that."

  
Arnaud frowned, his eyes cold with anger. "Very well, then." He nodded to one of the men standing beside Hobbes. The man nodded back and then placed his gun to Hobbes' head.

  
**********

  
As Claire said that she couldn't do what Arnaud was asking her, Sam felt a cold sense of disappointment wash over him. He understood why Claire was refusing to help Arnaud and he fully agreed with her decision. But a part of him had been frantically hoping up until this point that maybe, just maybe Ziggy was wrong, that he wouldn't die in this place after all. Now that hope was gone, and therein lay the cause of his disappointment.

  
Sam closed his eyes as he felt the cool metal of a gun barrel touching the back of his head. It wasn't that he was afraid; in fact, he was surprised at how calm he was. He just didn't want the last thing he ever saw to be his own brains splattering out onto the gurney before him.

  
However, before the man behind Sam had the chance to pull the trigger Claire spoke again. "I said that I couldn't help you, not that I wouldn't." Sam's eyes snapped open and he looked up in surprise and shock as Claire said, "After all, how do you expect to get any reactions from Darien that are even close to normal if he's unconscious?"

  


Sam stared at Claire in complete shock and disbelief. He didn't know what to say or even think about this sudden change in her behavior. Al, on the other hand, may have been shocked but he was definitely not at a loss for words. "What do you think you're doing?" he hollered loudly, throwing in a few Italian expletives for good measure.

  
Arnaud, on the other hand, didn't seem a bit surprised by this turn of events. "You do have a point," he said thoughtfully. "Fawkes should revive from the sedatives in about a half-hour."

  
"Excellent," Claire said, a look of sincere approval on her face.

  
"No! Not excellent!" Al yelped, with a look on his face that would have been almost comical if the situation weren't so dire. "This isn't right! You're ruining everything!" Sam would have said something, but that gun was still pointed at the back of his head and he didn't want to give the man holding it, who was also very unfortunately the man who he had slammed into the wall, a reason to fire. Sam had no doubt he would if given the chance.

  
"Jones, put down the gun," Arnaud said, giving the man holding a gun to Sam's head a pointed look. Jones complied, although he looked more than a little upset about doing so.

  
Just then a man in a suit stepped forward from the corner of the room he'd been standing in. "Arnaud, I'd like to have a word with you," he said sternly, in a tone that brooked no argument. Arnaud looked like he wanted to argue, but he saw the look in the other man's eyes, thought for a brief instant, and nodded. However, this exchange told Sam that Arnaud was by no means used to being the one to receive orders, while he had seemed quite at home earlier when giving them.

  
Arnaud and the man in a suit walked out of the room and, prompted by a subtle nod from Sam, Al followed them. This resulted in Claire being left in the room along with Sam, Darien's unconscious body, and four guards. The guards didn't look too interested in their duty, however; they obviously thought that with Darien and Sam restrained, Claire wouldn't be able to make much of an escape effort. They barely paid attention to anything going on in the room around them, instead preferring to carry on hushed conversations with each other.

  
Claire walked over to Sam and positioned herself so that she could see his face, and he could see hers. Sam immediately hissed, "What are you doing?" If Claire were really siding with Arnaud, then Sam would be extremely disappointed. He'd thought Claire was reliable, that she was loyal, that she was intriguing... He stopped that train of thought before it took him somewhere he really didn't need to be going at the moment.

  
"I'm saving your life," Claire whispered. "And I'm buying us some time. We have a half an hour before we start going through that little drama scene again. Now all we need to do is come up with a plan of some sort."

  
"You're not going to help Arnaud?" Sam asked, just for clarification.

  
"I bloody well will not! The man's insane," Claire said, glaring at the door through which Arnaud had disappeared.

  
Sam was reasonably sure he could trust Claire again now, so he leaned forward as much as he could and said in a low tone barely above a whisper, "I have something in my pocket that you may need."

  
"What?" Claire asked in a similar tone.

  
"A knife," Sam said, carefully gauging Claire's reaction. Claire said nothing, but her face took on a distinctly surprised expression for a moment before she was able to mask her reaction. "Take it. It's not like I can do much with it like this." Claire nodded and reached a hand into Sam's pants pocket, searching for the knife. After a moment she found it. She pulled it out slowly and carefully, so as not to injure Sam in the process. Then she turned away and placed it somewhere within the folds of her dress.

  
"Thank you Bobby," Claire said quietly. "Don't worry, I'll find a way to put it to good use." Sam gave her a wan smile; he was sure she would, but he wasn't sure that whatever she was going to try would be enough. Because Al still hadn't told him that he'd managed to change history yet.

  
**********

  
As soon as Claire had gotten her hands on the knife Hobbes had somehow managed to obtain she immediately began trying to formulate plans to use it. However, in the end she could only think of one immediate use for it. She walked over to Darien and, after checking to make sure that none of the guards was paying her any particular attention, began to examine him.

  
Or at least, that was what it looked like she was doing. In reality, she was carefully cutting each of the straps to Darien's restraints about halfway through. She couldn't cut them all the way or someone would be sure to notice, but this way Darien would have a pretty good chance of tearing himself free reasonably soon after he woke up and began struggling. And struggling was the one thing Claire absolutely knew she could count on when it came to Darien and restraints, especially when Arnaud was involved.

  
**********

  
Al followed Arnaud and the man in a suit out into the hall. Once there, the man in a suit stopped, giving Arnaud a stern glare. "What were you doing in there?"

  
"Obtaining assistance," Arnaud said, giving the man an irritated look.

  
"I have read up on the Keeper's files, and I don't see any reason why she would help you," the man said, his tone turning icy.

  
"And I have had firsthand experience withClaire," Arnaud said, emphasizing Claire's name, "and I can assure you that, while helping me is certainly not her first inclination, she will certainly cooperate if I give her the proper motivation."

  
"And how do you know she isn't playing you right now, stalling for time?" the man asked, crossing his arms and giving Arnaud a superior look.

  
"Oh, I'm counting on it Mr. Stark," Arnaud replied, with a look in his eye that sent shivers down Al's spine. "Did you think I didn't expect this? I've dealt with the Agency on a much closer level than you have," he continued, seemingly oblivious to the now acidic look that Stark person was giving him. "I can assure you, I know what I'm doing."

  
"I'm not so sure about that," Stark said angrily. "I'm starting to get the feeling you're only interested in your own personal gain. We've given you many assignments in the past few months, and you've only paid a passing interest in them. But I've noticed you keeping tabs on the Agency constantly."

  
"Oh, and you haven't been keeping tabs on the Agency yourself? Particularly one Agent Alex Monroe?" Arnaud said, giving Stark a smug grin. "I'm not the only one who has my own personal agenda around here."

  
"Yes, but you forget that you're no longer the top dog," Stark hissed. "You might want to watch your back. Accidents can happen." With that Stark turned on his heel and walked off down the hall.

  
Arnaud glared murderously at Stark's back. "Yes, accidents can happen," he said quietly to himself. Then he walked off down the hall in the opposite direction.

  
Al placed a hand to his temple. This was all very complicated, and he was starting to develop a headache of monumental proportions. He made a mental note to take some aspirin later and then began to fiddle with the handlink. It was time to head back to Sam and give his report.

  
**********

  
Alex stared stubbornly at the walls. Ever since she had awoken she'd been staring at them, although she had made the obligatory escape attempts that were expected of any person being held against their will. However, when these had proved futile she hadn't tried any more. She preferred to conserve her energy for when she would really need it.

  
She heard the door to her cell swing open. She didn't have to turn around; the way the hair stood up on the back of her neck told her exactly who it was. "Hello Stark," she said, her tone icy.

  
"Agent Monroe," Stark said by way of reply, his voice dripping with false cordiality.

  
"Why are you here?" Alex asked tersely. She was in no mood for formalities.

  
"Why do you think?" Stark asked, his tone carrying traces of curiosity, contempt, and barely concealed amusement.

  
Alex finally turned to face Stark, her anger bubbling to the surface. "Can't you ever say anything that actually answers a question when someone asks you it?"

  
"Can't you go five seconds without asking one?" Stark replied, a smug look on his face.

  
Alex took a moment to calm herself; obviously, Stark was trying to get under her skin. And now that she knew his game, at least in part, she had no intention of playing along. "So, how's James?"

  
Stark frowned. "_Brandon_ is just fine."

  
Alex gave Stark a cruel smile. "I should never have trusted your wife. She was nothing but a two-faced lying snake, just like you," she said triumphantly, enjoying the various shades of red and purple that appeared on Stark's face before he realized that Alex was playing the same game with him that he'd been playing with her mere moments ago and steeled himself accordingly.

  
"And just like Brandon will become apparently," Stark said, giving Alex a pointed look. Alex managed to control her emotions this time, but deep inside the blow still hurt. This was not what she wanted for her son- yes, her son, there was no way such an angelic little boy could have been spawned by the likes of Stark and his wife. Not when she had been the one to carry him in her womb, to give birth to him. No, James was her child, and for the thousandth time she silently vowed that she would- she must- get him back.

  
"Not if I can help it," Alex hissed, her voice full of barely concealed venom. Deciding that it might be wise to change the subject before she could no longer control her intense urge to strangle the man standing before her, she said in a calm, almost careless tone, "And if you think you can get any information out of me like this, you're sorely mistaken. I've been trained to withstand more kinds of mind games and torture than even your sick mind could think up."

  
Stark shook his head and let out an amused chuckle. "I seriously doubt that. In fact, under different circumstances I'd be seriously tempted to prove you wrong. But not today."

  
Alex gave Stark a mock-sympathetic look. "Aww, did you leave your torturing equipment in your other suit?"

  
Stark pulled out a gun and aimed it at Alex, giving her a smug look. "My dear, I would never carry such things on my person. Now, if you'll come this way, I have someone I'd like for you to meet." Stark gestured toward the door of the cell. "After you."

  
"You're such a gentleman," Alex said sarcastically as she stepped out of her cell, Stark's gun pointed firmly at her back.

  
**********

  
When Darien was only minutes away from waking, Arnaud returned. Sam wasn't able to tell it was Arnaud at first; in his current position he was unable to see the door, and thus had no clue who it was that had just entered the room. But then he heard Arnaud's unmistakable accent and any doubts he might have had as to whether it had indeed been Arnaud who had come through the door vanished.

  
"Hello again, Claire. It's almost time for the fun to begin," Arnaud said in a distinctly smug tone.

  
Al rolled his eyes. "So Arnaud De Freak returns." Sam gave Al a questioning look. Al saw it and shrugged. "His last name's De Fohn. De Fohn, De Freak- it just seemed to fit somehow."

  
"Mr. Stark seems to think you won't cooperate with me," Arnaud said casually. Sam, Al, and Claire all tensed a little at this. "However, I don't doubt your imminent cooperation in the slightest." Something about the way Arnaud said this sent a chill down Sam's spine.

  
Arnaud stepped into Sam's field of vision. He was holding something that Sam couldn't quite see in one hand. He began speaking again, glancing over at Claire occasionally but keeping most of his gaze focused on Sam, something that Sam found more than a little unnerving. "Now, I'm sure that both of us know I was bluffing about having Hobbes shot earlier for the most part, although as I said I would have had no qualms about allowing it to happen. I had much bigger plans for him though, as you will see."

  
"If you lay a hand on him then so help me I'll find some way to break your skull!" Al yelled, in a tone that said he meant business.

  
Arnaud began walking toward Sam. Sam knew something bad was about to happen; he didn't know what, but it was obvious that whatever it was going to be was intended to put Claire completely off her guard. He had to make sure that Claire wouldn't give in to Arnaud's demands, no matter what the cost. "Claire, don't do what he tells you, I don't care what he does to me, don't let him hurt Faw-" 

  
Before Sam could finish his sentence Arnaud had clapped a hand over his mouth. "Silence," he hissed. Sam could see what Arnaud was holding in his hand now; it was a needle, containing some sort of sickly-green colored liquid. Al, caught up in the moment, tried to knock the needle out of Arnaud's hands, but since he was merely a holographic projection his hand passed through the needle without anything even remotely resembling an impact. Sam's eyes widened as Arnaud stabbed it into the side of his neck and injected its contents into his bloodstream.

  


Claire looked over at Arnaud in shock and anger. "What did you inject him with?" she asked, gesturing toward Sam.

  
Arnaud smiled. "Oh, it's just a little something I whipped up for occasions like these. Poison of a sort, but with an interesting timeframe. It starts to take effect almost immediately, but it can be reversed until approximately two hours after being injected into the bloodstream."

  
Al glared at Arnaud, clenching his hands into fists so tightly Sam was afraid he might damage the handlink. "You son of a-" Before he finished his sentence Claire walked up and slapped Arnaud across the face. "Good girl," Al said in obvious approval.

  
Arnaud glowered at Claire and for a moment it looked like he was going to strike back, but he didn't. "Under normal circumstances you would have been shot for that," he said flatly. Sam frowned. He was starting to feel a sort of tingly sensation running up and down his body, and the place where Arnaud had injected him was becoming very sore. Arnaud looked over at Sam, a smirk returning to his face. "Ahh, the poison is already beginning to take effect." Sam said nothing, but glared up at Arnaud. He wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction of a reply.

  
Just then Darien began to stir a little, letting out a quiet moan. Arnaud turned back to Claire, his manner now one purely of business. "Now then my dear, it's time for us to get to work."

  
Claire took a deep breath, steeling herself. Then she looked defiantly up at Arnaud, her eyes glimmering with anger. "No."

  
Arnaud frowned. "This is not the time to tell me no," he said, gesturing meaningfully at Sam. "I'm the only one with the antidote."

  
"Antidote?" Darien muttered questioningly, opening his eyes and looking around in confusion.

  
Arnaud glared over at him. "Shut up Fawkes, I'm in the middle of a negotiation here."

  
Darien returned Arnaud's glare with zeal. "Well, the negotiations are over."

  
Arnaud shook his head. "Oh, I think not." He walked over to Sam, giving Claire a meaningful look. "As I said, he has only a couple of hours before the damage caused by the poison will be irreparable. I'd suggest that you cooperate."

  
Darien gave Sam a questioning look, and then paled a little as realization filled him. "You Swiss Miss mother, I'm gonna kill you for this!" he yelled, beginning to struggle violently in his restraints.

  
Arnaud laughed at this. "I believe you've already threatened me with death more times than I can count. You've never succeeded before, how do you expect to now?"

  
"Hey, practice makes perfect," Al said, unable to resist throwing in some sort of comment, even if only Sam could hear it. Darien, however, just struggled in his restraints all the more. He seemed to be the most surprised of anyone when, all of a sudden, the strap holding his right arm down abruptly snapped. Claire had been waiting for this moment, however, and immediately took action, leaping for the nearest guard and grabbing his gun away.

  
The other guards belatedly began reaching for their own weapons, but Claire aimed her newly acquired gun at them, anger gleaming in her eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you'd drop your weapons, gentlemen," she said icily. The guards paused for a second, and then did as she said, dropping their guns to the floor. "Kick them over here, please." The guards did as they were told.

  
Darien, who had by now finished freeing himself, smiled. "Hey, like Capone said. 'You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.'"

  
Arnaud rolled his eyes. "Really Fawkes, was the quote absolutely necessary?"

  
Darien smiled. "Come on Arnie, you should know by now that anything that bugs you is necessary."

  
Sam, who was getting very uncomfortable in his current position, wiggled his fingers as much as he could in the handcuffs and said, "A little help here?" Darien immediately pulled himself to his feet and walked over to Sam, helping him up off the gurney. Sam found that he was a little unsteady on his feet; his legs were beginning to feel strangely numbed.

  
"Umm..." Darien looked a little unsure of what to do next. "Where're the keys?"

  
"He has 'em," Sam said, nodding meaningfully at Jones, the man who had cuffed him in the first place. Darien immediately walked over to Jones and held out a hand expectantly. Jones glanced over at Claire, who looked more than a little intimidating packing such a large weapon, and then fished the handcuff keys out of his pockets and handed them to Darien, glaring at Sam all the while.

  
Darien undid the cuffs around Sam's wrists, and Sam pulled his hands from behind his back, massaging his wrist a little. They were more than a little sore from the metal that had been biting into them just moments before. Plus, this poison, whatever it was, wasn't helping matters. His head was already beginning to pound a little; he wasn't looking forward to what would happen when the poison really began to kick in.

  
Claire turned to Arnaud. "Now, I'd like the antidote to the poison you gave Bobby."

  
Arnaud smiled. "I can't give you that."

  
Claire's eyes narrowed in anger. "I warned you about what would happen if you hurt him. I can still make good on that offer."

  
Arnaud thought for a moment and then nodded reluctantly. "Very well." He picked up a small vial of pale violet-colored liquid.

  
"No, no, Sam, that's not it!" Al exclaimed vehemently. "Ziggy says that stuff'll only speed up the other poison's effect!" Sam turned to Al and mouthed 'how', by which he meant, 'How do you know this?' "Ziggy's been doing more digging since you got injected with that needle and found evidence of poison in your corpse. We're not sure which killed you first, that or the gunshot," Al responded to Sam's nonverbal question.

  
Sam frowned. If what Arnaud was holding were really the antidote, the traces of poison should have been removed. He turned to Claire. "That's not the antidote."

  
Arnaud gave Sam an irritated look. "What makes you say that?"

  
Darien rolled his eyes. "Come on, you and I both know Hobbes is probably right. That whole not-giving-us-the-real-antidote thing, it's just so you."

  
Claire nodded at the two of them. "You're right." She aimed her gun at Arnaud. "Give us the real antidote. Or I'll have no qualms about killing you," she said, giving Arnaud a fiendish grin.

  
Arnaud sighed, walked over to a nearby refrigerator, and pulled out a vial filled with a murky tan-colored liquid. "That's the right stuff, Sam," Al said triumphantly, "No more traces of poison in your system."

  
"That's the right stuff," Sam repeated, looking over at Claire and Darien.

  
Darien immediately walked over to Arnaud and grabbed the antidote, giving Arnaud a smug grin. "You lose," he said cheerfully, and with his free hand landed a punch squarely in Arnaud's midsection. Arnaud crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain.

  
Claire gave Darien a slightly irritated look. "Darien, we have more important things to do than beating up Arnaud right now. Namely fixing Bobby, finding Alex, and getting out of here before we get caught again." Darien sighed. Then he nodded reluctantly and stepped away from Arnaud, who was pulling himself to his feet and giving Darien a murderous look. If Claire hadn't been holding a gun in her hands, he undoubtedly would have done more than just glare.

  
Darien walked over to Claire. "So, how do we give him this stuff?" he asked, gesturing toward Sam.

  
Arnaud sighed in frustration. "It's taken orally," he hissed, obviously more than a little irritated at how this had turned out.

  
Claire leveled her gun straight at Arnaud's chest. "Really?"

  
"Really," Arnaud confirmed, giving her an exasperated glare.

  
Immediately Sam grabbed the vial, pulled off the top, and drank the murky liquid in one gulp. However, he regretted this a moment later, as his tongue belatedly told him that the antidote tasted absolutely horrible. He had a hard time keeping from spitting it out, but he managed. "That was vile," he said when he was finished swallowing. Claire immediately stifled a laugh. Sam was tempted to ask why, but didn't.

  
Suddenly Al's face lit up in surprise and glee. "Sam, you changed history! Your reaction to the fake antidote might have startled Claire into dropping the gun or something in the original history, but now you all make it out okay! Everyone but..." Al's joyful expression disappeared. "Everyone but Fawkes."

  
Sam couldn't help it; when he heard what Al said ye exclaimed "What?" at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the room turned to look at him, startled and confused by his sudden outburst. This made him extremely nervous and self-conscious, but since he has to explain his outburst somehow he said, in as near a tone to his previous one as he could muster, "What are we doing standing around like this? Let's find Monroe and get out of here!"

  
Claire gave him a nervous look. "But we still don't know for sure if that was really the antidote..."

  
"Look! I'm fine, completely cured!" Sam exclaimed. He didn't really feel better; in fact, he felt a little bit worse. But he trusted Al and Ziggy, so he wasn't worried about the poison. What he was worried about was the fact that Darien was still going to die, and that somehow he needed to find a way to prevent that from happening.

  
Claire didn't look very convinced by Sam's words, but she didn't argue. "All right, let's go." Claire nodded at Darien and the three of them began making their way toward the exit. As they slipped out the doorway Darien placed a hand on Claire and Sam's shoulders and allowed the quicksilver to flow over his body, and by extension theirs. Sam barely managed to contain his reaction as the quicksilver covered him; he was sure that Hobbes would not have reacted since he had undoubtedly been quicksilvered before, but it was still hard to act like it was an everyday occurrence.

  
"Thermal view, Gushie!" Al demanded. Sam assumed that Al's request had been granted, since moments later he began to follow Darien, Claire, and Sam as they rushed down the hall.

  
As the threesome plus one rounded the hall corner alarms began to blare loudly throughout the building. Darien rolled his eyes. "I was just waiting for that to happen," he muttered resignedly. Still keeping his hands placed firmly on both Sam and Claire, he hurriedly guided them down several corridors and finally stopped in front of what looked like a small janitor's closet. He opened the door and ushered Sam and Claire inside. Then he flipped on a light switch, closed the door, and leaned against it, letting his quicksilver flake off and heaving a sigh of relief. The quicksilver covering Sam and Claire flaked off of them a few moments later.

  
Al entered the room, walking right through the door and Darien's body. Sam pulled himself up to his full height. "Okay. Now that we're free, our next move is to find Monroe," he said, giving Al a pointed look.

  
Al nodded. "I'll get right on it." He pressed a few buttons on the handlink and promptly disappeared.

  
Darien, meanwhile, had just finished glancing at his right wrist. "Well, we'd better find her soon," he said grimly, "or we're gonna be in even more trouble than we already are." He held up his wrist; the tattoo-monitor had nine segments red. This sight did nothing to ease Sam's tension. Al had told him that the tattoo monitored the levels of quicksilver in Darien's bloodstream, and it was obvious that they were dangerously near the point of causing quicksilver madness. Sam wasn't at all happy about finding out first hand exactly what would happen when the snake residing on Darien's wrist became completely red.

  
A few moments later Al reappeared. "I've found Monroe- she's stuck in this room with Stark and some scientist guy who's setting her up for some experiments or something. They seem to do that sort of thing a lot around here," he said dryly.

  
Sam nodded and, without bothering to ask exactly who Stark was, said, "Okay, let's go." He began to head toward the door.

  
Darien was still leaning against the door, but when Sam motioned for him to get out of the way he didn't budge an inch. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look too good," he said, giving Sam a worried look.

  
Sam wasn't okay. He had a headache, his legs still didn't seem too sure about whether they could carry him, and he thought he could feel the beginnings of a fever coming on. But he wasn't about to let this stop him from doing what needed to be done. "I'm fine. Since I had to take the antidote orally it'll probably just take a while to take full effect, that's all." Darien seemed to become even more concerned at this and Sam belatedly realized that he had probably just said something that was more than a little unusual for the role he was playing. He turned to Claire and, in a slightly sheepish tone, muttered, "Right?"

  
"Right," Claire said in confirmation, but she was giving Sam the same kind of worried look as Darien.

  
"Just c'mon," Sam said impatiently, pushing Darien out of the way and walking out the door. He realized somewhat belatedly that he hadn't bothered to have Al check to see if the hall was empty. Fortunately, the coast was clear. Darien and Claire followed Sam out the door and down the hallways, peering surreptitiously through the doors into various rooms in an attempt to locate Alex as they went. However, Sam simply followed Al, who was headed directly toward the room Alex was in.

  
Finally Al stopped in front of a door that looked just like a dozen other doors in the same hallway. "This is it," he said triumphantly.  
Sam looked over at Claire, who was peeking through the door opposite him. "Claire, I need your gun." Claire nodded and handed it to him, walking over to stand beside him. Darien walked up to them as well, just as Sam turned the doorknob.

  
The door swung open and any doubts Darien, Claire, or Sam might have had about this being the right room vanished in an instant. The man in a suit Sam had seen earlier, probably Stark, was standing in a corner of the room. Another man, presumably the scientist Al had spoken of, was standing beside a hospital gurney with a very large needle in his hands. And, strapped tightly to the gurney with the needle being held inches from her arm, was Alex.

  
"You know," she said in a somewhat sarcastic tone, "you guys have great timing."

**********

Darien watched as Hobbes brought his gun to bear on the scientist that was about to inject the needle into Alex's arm and yelped, "Hold it right there!" The scientist froze in mid-motion; the syringe he was holding stopped moving abruptly, poised barely an inch above Alex's arm.

  
Stark stepped out of the corner he'd been lurking in and began moving toward the center of the room, chuckling softly to himself. "You think you have the upper hand? This is my facility, and I can assure you that in a matter of moments my men will be combing these hallways looking for you. They're probably on their way as I speak."

  
Darien stepped into the room and gave Stark an irritated look. "Don't you ever shut up?"

  
Alex smirked. "I asked him something similar myself a little while ago." She looked over at Darien, a coy smile playing across her lips. "So, are you going to let me loose, or do you get a kick out of seeing poor, defenseless women tied down to hospital beds?" Darien rolled his eyes at this; he knew for a fact that Alex was neither poor nor defenseless. But she was definitely tied down right now, and that was something he felt should be quickly remedied.

  
Darien walked over to Alex, but before he began undoing the straps he looked over at the scientist, who still had that needle of his dangerously close to Alex's arm. "Why don't you point that thing somewhere else," he suggested dryly, gesturing at the needle. The scientist nodded and moved his syringe away from Alex's arm, absently placing it on a nearby lab table. Darien immediately set himself to the task of undoing the bindings around Alex's wrists and ankles.

  
As soon as Alex was free she stood up and gave Stark an angry glare. She looked like she was about to attack him, but Darien placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not now," he said, shaking his head. "We have a time limit." He surreptitiously allowed Alex a good view of the tattoo on his wrist.

  
When Alex saw the tattoo her eyes widened just the slightest bit, but other than that her face didn't betray any hint that she'd seen anything troublesome. "All right, later," she said, sparing one last glare at Stark before she walked out the door.

  
Darien headed for the door as well, but before he walked out he too glanced back at Stark. "Hey Stark, your goons are late. Maybe they went on a coffee break or something." Then he walked out the door. Hobbes, still keeping his gun at the ready, closed the door. Then he, Claire, Darien, and Alex all began to run at a breakneck pace down the hall.

  
**********

  
"Al, we need an exit," Sam gasped as he rounded a corner. He had fallen in behind Darien, Claire, and Alex, partially because he wanted to talk with Al and partially because he was having problems keeping up. Normally he wouldn't have this much trouble with that, but the poison was still sapping his strength and he was feeling worse by the moment. He knew the antidote would probably take effect soon, but it hadn't yet and he was wishing more and more that it had. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on things, even important things such as escape.

  
"Exit. Right," Al muttered, shaking his head. "That'd be a lot easier if I could figure out where we were." He pressed some buttons on the handlink and disappeared. Sam slowed to a halt and leaned against a wall, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

  
Suddenly he heard Alex make a loud harrumphing sound and ask in a brusque tone of voice, "What's with him?"

  
Sam's eyes snapped open at the sound of Alex's voice. He realized that Darien, Alex, and Claire were all watching him, and Darien and Claire's expressions betrayed extreme worry. Sam hurriedly pulled away from the wall and stood up straight, even though the sudden movement made him a little dizzy. "I'm fine," he muttered, although the fact that he was still gasping for breath a little completely belied what he had just said.

  
Claire shook her head. "No, I don't think you are." She walked toward Sam and tried to place a hand on his forehead, but he moved away quickly. He knew if she placed a hand on his forehead like she was planning she would immediately discover that he was now suffering from a fever.

  
Just then Alex held up a hand. "Shh, I think I can hear someone coming." Immediately she, Darien, Claire, and Sam took up defensive positions. Moments later three armed guards rounded the corner, but before they even had time to raise their weapons they were overtaken. Alex and Darien began to shove them into a nearby room that had obviously doubled as a cell of some kind in the past since the locks were on the outside. Claire was attempting to check up on Sam, and Sam was doing his best to dodge her attentions.

  
Just then Al reappeared and attempted to stifle a laugh when he saw what was going on with Sam and Claire. "Looks like someone wants to play doctor," he said cheerfully. Sam gave Al an irritated glare and Al went back to business. "I found a way out." Sam heaved a sigh of relief. Al pressed a couple of buttons on his handlink and a portion of the hallway floor turned yellow, starting at Sam's feet and stretching out in a line down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight. "Follow the yellow brick road," Al muttered, lighting up a cigar and taking a big puff.

  
Sam raised an eyebrow at Al's comment; then he turned to Darien and Alex, who had finished locking the men up. Alex was gathering the guards' weapons up off of the floor where Darien had dropped them in a pile earlier. "Come on, let's get out of here," Sam said, gesturing for them to follow him.

  
Alex nodded and finished picking the guns up off of the floor. "Guns for everyone," she said in what could almost be considered a cheerful tone as she handed one to Claire and one to Darien.

  
Darien took the gun he was handed, eyeing it disdainfully. "Perfect," he muttered, hefting the gun gingerly. Suddenly he collapsed to the ground, clutching the back of his neck and letting out a sharp cry of pain. Claire and Alex rushed over to him, seemingly unsure of whether to help him back to his feet or to raise their guns. A moment later Darien pulled himself up on his hands and knees and looked up at them. "I'm okay... for now." The tone in his voice implied he wouldn't remain so for much longer.

  
"Maybe you shouldn't have a gun after all," Alex said, picking Darien's gun up from where it had dropped on the ground when he fell.  


"Good idea," Darien agreed, giving Alex a nod of approval.

  
Sam was more than a little shaken by what had just happened. For a moment he'd thought that Darien was about to go quicksilver mad. But he shook off the nervousness and motioned for the others to follow him. "This way," he said, trying to sound healthier than he felt and only partially succeeding. However, he managed to project enough of a decisive aura that the others didn't question his directions. They began to proceed down the hall together, guns at the ready. Sam took the lead and followed Al and the yellow line.

  
**********

  
It wasn't very hard after that; any guards the foursome ran into were either shot or locked up in the nearest convenient cell. In about five minutes they made it within sight of what looked a great deal like an exit, situated at the end of a long hallway. As soon as Claire saw it she made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeal of delight. A wide grin spread across Darien's face, and even Alex had the beginnings of a smile on her lips. Only Sam was frowning.

  
Al shook his head. "Okay, according to Ziggy, you all get out of the building, but Fawkes goes quick... quick..." Al frowned and stopped speaking. Apparently the handlink had stopped feeding him information in mid-word, because he banged his hand against the handlink and muttered something about it being a stupid pile of gummy bears before continuing. "He goes quicksilver mad and tries to tackle a guard or something in the parking lot. When he does that he gets shot, and he dies on his way to the hospital."

  
Sam glanced over at Darien, a determined expression on his face. It was quite obvious he was here to keep Darien from dying, or falling into the hands of Chrysalis, whoever they were. And, since he couldn't stop Darien from going quicksilver mad, the only tactic left was to prevent him from attacking that guard. Sam started heading toward the exit at a brisk pace, although he made sure he didn't get ahead of Darien.

  
Suddenly, right before they reached the door, several doors near the exit flew open and at least ten heavily armed guards piled out of them. Alex stopped in her tracks, immediately bringing her gun up in a defensive position. Sam and Claire did the same. Darien screeched to a halt, looking at the armed guards in disbelief. "Aw crap," he said in a desperate tone.

  
Al nodded, raising an eyebrow at the display before him. "You said it," he muttered, glancing down at the handlink and obviously trying to figure out why the handlink said that Sam, Claire, and Alex had gotten out of the building when he could currently see no way out of the situation. However, before he'd barely begun checking it, he got his answer. Darien took a deep breath, obviously not relishing what he was about to do, and quicksilvered.

  
"Fawkes?" Sam half-asked and half-demanded, reaching out to where Darien had been a moment ago, but Darien was no longer there. He swore under his breath; there was nothing he could do if this was when Darien went quicksilver mad, thanks to the ten big brutes standing before him.

  
The guards began struggling to put on their thermal goggles, but by the time they'd managed to get them on two of their company had already had their heads smashed together by an unseen force and a third had been taken down by the butt of a floating machine gun that had been hurriedly snatched from the ground beside the two unconscious men.

  
Taking advantage of the guards' distraction, Alex began firing at them, although she made sure to fire nowhere near where the three guards had just fallen. Darien shed his quicksilver at that point, probably because he didn't want to run the risk of being hit by a stray bullet, and within seconds the remainder of the guards were lying on the ground, unconscious or dead.

  
Everyone started to make their way for the door with renewed vigor; no one had any desire to go through another shoot-out, or worse. Darien reached the door first and threw it open. Claire and Alex ran through without question, and Sam ran through last, glancing back every few seconds to make sure he wasn't being followed. He was at least as surprised as anyone else, except for Al, to find that he had run through a door and right into the main area where the guests were gathered for Chrysalis' 'party'.

  
At least a dozen bodyguards had leapt into action at the sight of the guns in the hands of Alex, Claire, and Sam, drawing guns of their own and taking defensive stances, fully ready to protect the people who had hired them. Sam put up a hand, exclaiming loudly, "Whoa, calm down there. We're just..."

  
"Showing off some of your goods," Al prompted.

  
"Yeah, showing off some of our goods," Sam said, forgetting for the moment that no one else could hear what Al was saying. He lowered his gun, handing it to the nearest arms dealer in a tuxedo. The man took the gun and held it expertly, although he looked more than a little puzzled as to exactly why he was being given it. Claire and Alex handed their guns to nearby arms dealers and terrorists as well, although the people they handed the guns to seemed just as perplexed as the man Sam had dealt with.

  
"So," Sam said a little awkwardly, "Just... look them over, and we'll be back in a few minutes to see what you think." That was a total and complete lie, of course, but he hurriedly rushed across the room and out the door before anyone could start pestering him with questions. Alex, Claire, and Darien were right on his heels.

  
Finally they reached the door they had entered from. As they hurried out it, the man who had greeted them when they came in gave them a confused and slightly suspicious look. "Wild party, huh?" he asked, eyeing the state of the foursome's clothing, all of which was torn, wrinkled, or battered to some degree.

  
Claire down at her outfit, then at Sam, Alex, and Darien, and nodded. "You could say that." The four of them walked away from the doorman and began looking desperately around for some method of transportation to get them away from this place before Chrysalis started sending men out after them, but there were no cars that they could commandeer and their limousine was nowhere in sight.

  
Just then Darien collapsed to the ground, letting out a loud cry of pain similar to the one he had made in the corridor. Alex, who was closest to him, leaned down to check on him. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

  
"Oh, I'm just great," Darien said, pulling himself to his feet and grinning widely. His eyes were blood red.

Sam took an involuntary step back as he saw the horrific red hue of Darien's eyes. It was a very disturbing sight, and probably not one that could be completely gotten over, even when given a good amount of time to get over it in. And now he knew he had just a few minutes, or even moments, to stop Darien from causing his own demise like in the previous history.

  
As if cued by Sam's thoughts, several men burst out the front door of the building the party was being held in, guns at the ready. They took one look at Darien, Sam, Claire, and Alex; then they aimed their guns directly at the foursome. The man standing in front, obviously their leader, yelled, "Freeze!"

  
Darien, who had been facing in the other direction, raised his hands as if in surrender and turned around, giving the man a sardonic grin. "No," he said casually, and then quicksilver began to flow over his body. The guards began to shoot at him, but they missed, and then Darien was invisible and there was no way for them to tell exactly where he was. Sam looked around frantically; with Darien invisible, he would have a very hard time stopping Darien from reaching the guards.

  
Just then Al straightened up, a determined look on his face. "Gushie, I need that thermal view again! Use that to display Fawkes' location so Sam can see him too!" Almost immediately Sam could see a holographic green blur that could only be Darien running toward the guards. Sam immediately began running after him, doing his best to avoid the shots fired in his direction.

  
When Darien was a few feet from the lead guard he crouched and then leaped forward, pouncing on the man with an almost feline grace. The man went down screaming bloody murder, and several of his men looked down at where he had fallen and took aim. "Don't shoot me!" the man yelled, but Sam could see that they wouldn't end up shooting the man unless the bullets tore straight through Darien in the process. Sam swore and put on an extra burst of speed, barreling into Darien and shoving him off of the lead guard right before the men pulled their triggers.

  
The lead guard caught at least half a dozen bullets directly to the chest; he was dead instantly. Sam felt a searing pain as a bullet tore through his left shoulder, but he paid it no mind. He was too busy trying to hold Darien down on the ground, which seemed to be having the same effect as trying to put a cat in water. Darien bit, kicked, and clawed his way out of Sam's grasp, leaving Sam lying alone on the ground with all the guards pointing their guns directly at his chest.

  
Sam tried to get up, tried at least to move, but he couldn't. His head was throbbing, his shoulder hurt like fire, and Darien had gotten in some pretty painful blows as well. The guards tensed up, obviously preparing to shoot him, but before they had the chance one of them was struck from behind by Darien, who was still invisible to everyone but Sam and Al. The guard fell to the ground, unconscious.

  
The other guards began to look around in confusion, aiming their guns at thin air, and Claire and Alex, who seemed to have been forgotten in the fray, charged forward. Alex began fighting for all she was worth, kicking and punching like the professional fighter she was, and Claire rushed toward Sam, grabbing a gun that was lying on the ground and taking up a defensive position beside him.

  
Between Alex and Darien, the guards were dealt with in short order. Once all the guards had been taken care of, however, Alex picked up a gun off of the ground and started looking around at what seemed to her to be empty space, trying to find some hint of Darien's presence. "Show yourself, Fawkes," she said in a commanding tone.

  
Darien's disembodied laugh echoed throughout the parking lot. "Nah, I like it better this way."

  
Sam pulled himself to his feet, not without some considerable effort, and began walking toward where Darien was standing, bending down to grab a gun as he went. Darien was facing Alex, not him, so it wasn't too hard to sneak up on Darien from behind. Alex, to her credit, did nothing to betray Sam's position. However, Darien seemed to hear something and whirled around just as Sam slammed the butt of the gun he was holding against the side of Darien's head. Darien fell to the ground, the quicksilver flaking off of his unconscious form.

  
"How did you know that was where he was?" Alex asked, a strange mixture of confusion, disbelief, and awe in her voice. But even if Sam had been able to think up an explanation he was in no position to answer; he dropped the gun and began swaying on his feet as a sudden wave of dizziness swept over him. He pitched forward and Alex just barely managed to catch him before he fell face-first onto the asphalt.

  
Sam could see Alex's worried face above him, and soon Claire and Al appeared beside her, similar expressions on their faces. Sam's attention focused on Al; he needed to ask a question, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. Something about history... Then darkness encroached on his vision and all thoughts of asking questions fled from his mind as another wave of dizziness came over him and he passed out.

  
**********

  
Sam awoke to find himself lying in a hospital bed, with Claire asleep in a chair nearby. Al was standing nearby as well, busily puffing away on a cigar. He seemed extremely relieved as he saw Sam open his eyes; he pulled the cigar out of his mouth and said, "It's about time," in a half-reproachful, half-playful tone.

  
Sam guessed by Al's tone of voice that he was supposed to come up with a witty retort, or at least a semi-articulate response; however, all that came out of his mouth was a very confused, "Huh?"

  
Al sighed. "Sam, you've been unconscious for over sixteen hours. I went to bed while you were out, woke up nine hours later and you hadn't budged an inch. If Ziggy hadn't said that you were gonna be okay I would've thought you'd slipped into a coma or something."

  
"Oh," Sam said, a slightly sheepish expression on his face.

  
A grin spread across Al's face and he said, "You changed history, Sam. Fawkes didn't get killed, and even though the Agency didn't manage to bust Chrysalis because the building had been abandoned by the time the police got there they were still able to catch a lot of terrorists with the information you guys overheard before you got caught."

  
Sam frowned. If he'd saved Darien and managed to change history... "Why am I still here?"

  
Al smirked. "Why else? You get to kiss the girl." He pointed the cigar in his right hand toward Claire, who was still sleeping peacefully in her chair. "Ziggy says there's a ninety-three percent chance that's what'll get you to leap out."

  
"I don't think I want to wake her up," Sam said in a quiet tone barely above a whisper. He was watching Claire intently. She really was beautiful lying there, with her hair spilling down her shoulders and onto the arm of the chair in reckless abandon. There was a simple beauty captured in the way she slept, and Sam was loath to be the cause of its disappearance.

  
Al rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on, don't tell me you aren't interested in her. You're crazy about her! Or that Hobbes guy is crazy about her. Or both."

  
"Probably both," Sam muttered absently, still studying Claire's sleeping form. He had had the feeling from the start that the feelings he had for Claire weren't entirely his own, not by a long shot.

  
Just then Claire began to stir, letting out a soft moan. "Bobby?" she asked in a sleepy tone.

  
"Yeah?" Sam asked, feeling a little guilty for waking Claire up.

  
At the sound of Sam's voice Claire's head snapped up as she suddenly went from over half-asleep to fully awake in less than a second. "Bobby?" she asked again, her voice now sounding both surprised and relieved. She jumped up from her chair and rushed over to Sam's side. She almost flung herself on him before she realized that with the shape his shoulder was in he might not appreciate a hug at the moment. "How are you feeling?" she asked, pulling back and speaking in a more professional tone.

  
Sam thought for a moment, taking a mental tally of just how bad he felt. His shoulder hurt a bit, but he didn't seem to be suffering any other ill effects. "Pretty good, considering," he said, giving Claire a friendly smile. He knew the clinical detachment she was using at the moment was just a mask. Even if he hadn't hidden behind that same mask himself in the past he would have known. Claire's eyes were smiling, even if she wasn't.

  
"Good," Claire said, the smile spreading from her eyes to the rest of her face.

  
Sam frowned. "How's Fawkes?" he asked, looking at both Claire and Al.

  
"Fawkes is fine," Al said.

  
"Darien's just fine," Claire said at the same time. Al fell silent as she continued her explanation. "We got him back to the lab and gave him his shot of counteragent before he woke up. You gave him a pretty nasty knock on the head there, you know," she said, giving Sam a half-scolding look.

  
"Well," Sam said sheepishly, "if I hadn't then Monroe would probably be in worse shape than I am and Fawkes would be who knows where doing who knows what to who knows who." He frowned a bit as soon as he said this; it didn't quite seem like something he would normally say. But Claire didn't seem at all disturbed by the convoluted speech he had just uttered, so he assumed it was probably something Hobbes might say.

  
"Yes, there is that," Claire said, inclining her head to indicate that Sam had a point. "But Darien still wasn't very appreciative of the headache you gave him. He wasn't angry with you; he knows why you did what you did. But he was still very cranky before I sent him off to bed," Claire paused for a moment to glance at her watch, "...four hours ago."

  
"You sent him to bed?" Sam and Al exclaimed at the same time, raising their eyebrows in tandem. Darien didn't seem the type that would go to bed just because someone told him to.

  
"Well, I sent him home at any rate. He would never have gone except I threatened to sedate him if he didn't leave. He was pacing this room for hours."

  
"So he was worried, huh?" Sam asked, a broad grin spreading across his face. He was enjoying being able to banter with Claire without any real sort of danger looming over either of their heads for once.

  
"Worried sick," Claire replied, returning Sam's grin. Then she seemed to sober a bit. To Sam the expression that appeared on her face seemed to be saying, 'And so was I'.

  
"Hey, don't worry, I'm fine," Sam said reassuringly. "My shoulder's doing pretty good, and I don't think the poison's a problem any more." He looked over at Al as he said this, just to make sure.

  
"Don't worry, according to Ziggy you've completely recovered from that by now," Al said in confirmation.

  
"Yes, I know," Claire said, nodding her head in reluctant agreement. However, her face was still tinged with worry, along with another emotion that was hard to pinpoint. After a moment of consideration she sat down at the foot of Sam's hospital bed. "Bobby... I need to talk with you." She took a deep breath before continuing, obviously mustering up her courage to say something that would quite probably be painful.

  
Al frowned. "Uh oh Sam, I know that look. That's not a good look."

  
Claire bit her lip nervously and then finally blurted out, "Bobby, I know you have feelings for me. It's been obvious for quite some time. And, while I am extremely flattered by the thought that you would be interested in me like that, and might even reciprocate those feelings..."

  
"Here it comes," Al said, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling and waiting for the inevitable.

  
"...there's no way we can act on them. After all, Darien is your partner, and he's my Kept, and if you and I became romantically involved things could get very tricky. Not to mention the fact that if Chrysalis or Arnaud captured one of us it would be much easier to manipulate the other person into doing their bidding than if we weren't involved with each other. And of course the Official certainly wouldn't approve..."

  
"Screw the Official!" Al exclaimed vehemently, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Do something Sam, quick!" Sam knew Al was right; his window of opportunity was closing fast. If he didn't do something soon, he might never leap out of this situation. And he didn't think he would enjoy posing as a paranoid government agent with feelings for a woman he would never be able to act on. In fact, he knew for a fact that he wouldn't enjoy that in the least. So he did the only thing he could think of to silence Claire. He leaned forward, pulled her to him, and kissed her full on the lips.

  
Claire was so shocked by this action it took her nearly half a minute after Sam pulled away before she was able to gather her thoughts to speak again. "Well, that was interesting," she finally managed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. It was obvious that whatever reaction she had been expecting to her words, she certainly hadn't expected that.

  
"I like interesting," Sam said, giving Claire a coy smile.

  
"So do I," Claire said, trying to tame the feelings that had been aroused by Sam's kiss and failing utterly, "But you know we can't. I mean, I've heard you say it yourself, 'no fishing off of the company pier'..."

  
Sam glanced over at Al, then back at Claire. "Screw the company pier," he said, lifting up a hand to stroke Claire's cheek. He looked into Claire's eyes for a long moment, letting them do their best to convince her where words alone wouldn't work. Then he leaned in to kiss her again. After a moment's hesitation she leaned forward as well. And then, just as their lips touched, Sam leaped.

*********  
~Epilogue~  
*********

Arnaud reached for the pile of tapes he had confiscated from security and popped one of them into a nearby VCR. He was watching the tapes of Darien's escape. Something was strange about it; he couldn't quite figure out what, though. So, he had decided to watch them over and over again until he figured out what it was.

  
Suddenly he heard someone walk into the room. He straightened and turned around, not bothering to even try to get rid of the scowl he'd had on his face for the past hour. The scowl only deepened as he saw that it was Stark who had walked through the doorway. He really didn't like Stark. At first they had gotten along reasonably well as professional colleagues, but their relationship had soured long before tonight. Stark kept trying to assert himself as top dog, and Arnaud refused to allow himself to be lorded over. This had not made it easy for the two of them to work together under the best of circumstances, and this was hardly the best of circumstances.

  
"Yes?" Arnaud said brusquely, hardly bothering to conceal the venom in his tone.

  
Stark glared at Arnaud. "I'm not pleased with how you conducted yourself today."

  
"When are you ever?" Arnaud replied, returning Stark's glare with interest.

  
"You let them escape," Stark continued, seemingly unfazed by Arnaud's comment.

  
"Yes, but your guards were unable to apprehend them, I noticed," Arnaud said icily. "If you are suggesting that this was my fault I'd suggest you think again. After all, your guards are the ones who were so lax they didn't even notice Claire's rather obvious attempt at cutting the straps tying Fawkes down to his gurney. And the men watching your security cameras seemed to have fallen asleep, because unless they are completely incompetent I can't see how they could have missed Fawkes' escape."

  
Stark frowned. "You shouldn't have given them the antidote."

  
Arnaud laughed. "Come now, you would have done the same thing in my position, only you would have given it to them the first time." He frowned thoughtfully after he said this; he still couldn't quite figure out how Hobbes had known that the first vial wasn't the real antidote. Arnaud had watched the tapes of those moments as many times as he had watched the escape and from what he could tell he had given a very convincing performance. He almost would have fooled himself.

  
The only theory he could come up with, besides Hobbes being able to see the future, was that the whole thing had just been a lucky guess. And, since he had never been much for believing in luck and it would be impossible for Hobbes to see the future, he was left with no theory whatsoever. The entire thing was a mystery, and Arnaud had never liked mysteries.

  
Stark gave Arnaud an irritated look. "I'm warning you, one more slip-up like this and you may not be with us much longer. I'm beginning to think we could use that gland of yours better out of your head than in it."

  
Arnaud glared at Stark, allowing all the anger he was feeling to bubble up in his voice as he said in a cold tone, "I have grown very attached to my gland, Monsieur. The two of us are not parted easily. In fact, it might be easier to part your head from your shoulders," he said, returning threat for threat and meaning what he said completely.

  
Stark opened his mouth as if to retaliate, but couldn't seem to think of a suitable response. After a moment he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, once again leaving Arnaud alone with the security tapes. Arnaud turned back to the television and VCR he had been watching earlier, much preferring the company of the machine to that of the man who had just left.

  
The tape that was playing was one of the tapes from the parking lot. The guards had just been vanquished, and Darien, invisible, was standing near Agent Monroe, who was obviously trying to talk him down and having no effect. And then Agent Hobbes came up on Darien from behind and knocked him out.

  
Arnaud's eyes widened suddenly and he hit the rewind button and watched the scene play out again. He finally realized what it was he had been almost seeing before, but just barely missing- Hobbes had known exactly where Darien was, even while Darien was quicksilvered. And he had had no way of doing so; he wasn't wearing thermal glasses.

  
And then Arnaud saw the pièce de résistance; out of the corner of his eye, for just a second, he saw the faint image of a man in a bad suit holding a cigar in one hand and a something that looked a little like a brightly colored calculator in one hand. The image was dim and was only there for a fraction of a second, but Arnaud saw it. He rewound the tape over and over until finally he was able to freeze the tape on the exact frame the strange man had appeared.

  
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Arnaud said, laughing quietly. Apparently the Agency had more than one invisible man on their hands, and Arnaud was going to find out exactly who he was.

  
The End...  
  
...or is it?


End file.
